Experimental Traditional Americana Rooted in Spiritual Inquiry
Art Works
A collection of poems written while sitting with different works of art. The title of the work of art is usually included at the bottom of the piece.
Dance to the Heartbeat
The rhythm, it haunts us, unsettles our dreams
Strangles our hopeful inelegant structure
Out of the cellophane, into the stream.
The passion of this and all that surrounds us
Within us, between us, I say that I am.
I am and we are, but the rhythm confounds us,
With nothing to hope for, nothing to bind
Scatter the ashes that once were our plans
Dance to the heartbeat we can’t leave behind.
The one-legged don’t always speak
Fernando Alvim
Denver Art Museum
Don't Be So Certain
The dance is unfolding
Laughter restores
Music emerging and
Merging with words,
Opening longing,
Welcoming in,
Turning to notice
Before it all ends
I said, “Don’t be so certain.”
The depth of the joy and the play is all here
Exquisitely focused where nothing is clear.
Dihedral Barrage
Kristen Baker
​
Denver Art Museum
This Fire In Which I Swim
This fire in my heart, I do not give to you
Nourishing the flame,
this spark only here a short time
A halo, a lover’s embrace
I am not dancing your dance,
mine will unfold itself,
scrambled fire, lost in creation,
I would not, could not choose
this sea of fire in which I swim.
Pennington 1/ Pelham II
Ethel Schwabacker
Denver Art Museum
​
Who Would Complain
It’s only because we’re alive,
unavoidably touching, inexplicably weeping,
and unable to speak.
The train fading into the mist,
Leaving us inexplicably, unavoidably
standing in the drizzle,
warmed by the fire that flows through us,
by a pulse of imagination
Who would complain?
Hudson River Day Line
Joan Mitchell
​
Denver Art Museum
I Do Not Know What Moves
Emerging, I might have wings.
The rain soaked loamy soil falling away and drifting downward.
Reaching towards obvious, bursting forth, unsure of the way,
Wandering delusions or essential exploration
I do not know what moves my head.
Jacob’s Ladder
Helen Frankenfurter
​
Denver Art Museum
Road Map
The roadmap is twisted and tattered
The signs, they all point the wrong way.
The space is surrounded, divided, and bounded,
Confounded by visions of far, far away.
The sinuous line to the distant horizon
Tangled and twisted and groping within.
The dirt and the garbage, the neon-lit carnage,
Chewing on days that have yet to begin.
Adrift with a dream and a highway to follow,
Everyday here as the traffic unwinds.
Turning the exits in circles and yearning
To follow this road to the end of the line.
The white line is beckoning, urging us onward,
Confining the journey, directing the car
Enticing confusion, seductive intrusion
Insisting we never should be where we are.
R.A.W.
Nicola Lopez
Denver Art Museum